Compromised
by Jonathon Coady
Summary: A story about another group of escapees from a government facility. Genetically engeineered to forget her past, Meg Thatcher's answers to what that strange tattoo on her wrist means come crashing down on her literally when she is driven from her home and
1. 4739

Darkness. A long hallway, gray walls on all sides. Your focus sharpening as you move stealthily, silently through the hallway, crouched low. You can't hear them breathing or moving, but you know the others are at your back. You move in a pack along the gray walls. Ahead, you see a doorway with a frosted glass window. You can hear a guard behind the glass, alone, armed. You do not speak aloud, but silently, through your mind, to the others.

Stay. I will clear the obstacle.

Feelings of assent from the others. They don't move as you approach the door. You stay low against the wall so as not to cast a shadow and alert the target. In a fluid movement, you stand, jackknife your body around, and use the momentum to break the glass and grab the semiautomatic rifle in the guard's hand with one hand and grab the guard's neck in the other.

A moment passes.

The shattered glass falls from the broken window onto the dead guard's glassy, unseeing eyes, his broken neck causing his head to rest at an unnatural angle. You have jumped through the broken window and are standing erect over the body, the weapon strapped across your back. You go to open the door for the others to pass through. The lights burst on in the hallway, and you see your face reflected in the two way mirror on the wall. There is a small piece of glass above your eyebrow, but you don't feel it. You are wearing a fitted black unitard with a number emblazoned on your left chest. You are no more than ten years old. The holograph guard on the floor evaporates in a crackling of digital feedback. The glass remains. An invisible speaker blares.

"EXERSIZE COMPLETE. 4739:SURRENDER YOUR WEAPON AND STAND AT ATTENTION FOR INSPECTION."

You drop the mock rifle to the ground and stand at attention. The others do the same. A voice speaks in your head, not your own.

Success is good. Congratulations, 4739.

You smile slightly, and remove the chip of glass from your eyebrow without flinching. Pain is unimportant. Victory is good.

"Ms. Thatcher!"

The voice of my biology teacher, Mr. Gardner, jarred me from the dream, and I realized my surroundings. I nodded off in bio class again. Shit.

"Yes sir?" I replied, completely alert and awake, placing my glasses, which had fallen askew on my face, firmly back on my nose.

"Is my carefully prepared lecture really that un-stimulating for you, Ms. Thatcher? Do you need some flashing lights and elaborate costumes to hold your attention on the task at hand?" Gardner was standing with his chalk-covered hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side, staring straight at me from the front of the lecture hall. Coincidentally, everyone in the room was also eyeing me, holding back their laughter, no doubt. I straightened my spine, and brushed a hand through my hair.

"Certainly not, Mr. Gardner. I apologize for my inattention, sir. It will not happen again." I replied with a firm look of sincerity planted on my face.

He adjusted his glasses, which were dangerously teetering on the tip of his nose, and turned back to the blackboard. "I'm sure you mean that with all your heart, Ms. Thatcher. Now then, where were we? The definitions of benthic cephalopods and crustaceans, yes?"

Class resumed. Foot firmly implanted in mouth. Life completely futile.

I sat alone under a tree during lunch, drinking black coffee and trying to sketch the images I had seen in the dream. The hallway, the window, the reflection of the girl.

I looked down at my right wrist, and lifted the big bracelet watch that I always wore to cover what lay underneath.



There was a barcode beneath the numbers which to me had no real significance in that I had no idea what it meant. It would have looked like a normal tattoo, except instead of black ink; this one was done in clear, bright white. It had been there for as long as I could remember, which of course wasn't saying much considering my memories of my childhood pretty much begin at age 10, when I was adopted, but I figured that meant that I had gotten it when I was very young.

I had never tried to have it removed, it just didn't seem like a good idea. I just kept it covered by the watch or bracelets or long sleeve t-shirts all the time. People tend to ask questions about random white tattoos on your wrist, especially when you are too young to legally get a tattoo.

Even thought the courtyard was crowded with people eating their lunch, I heard a distinct pattern of footsteps approaching, and closed my notebook. I looked up and saw my friend rushing towards me across the yard, her long black hair swinging behind her in its thick braid.

"Yo dumbass, did you nod off in Bio again?"

Such a sweet mouth, my friend Jana.

I smiled wryly while I refastened my watch, "Dude, what can I do if his constant droning triggers an immediate coma-like reaction?"

She sat down beside me, plopping her bag down in between us and grabbing two Cokes from within. "You can pay better attention, dude. You need to pass his class, it's…you know…important and stuff."

I shoved my notebook back into the recesses of my bag and accepted the Coke with an appreciative nod, cracking it open and taking a sip. "That was convincing, babe. Whatever, it's not that hard of a class subject-wise. I don't even study for the tests. I just hope he doesn't factor class participation into his grade that much. Cuz if he does, then I'm screwed."

Jana gaped at me. "What do you mean 'not that hard'? It's A.P Bio, and you're a sophomore! That's like a senior level class for the MIT-bound crowd, and as much as I love you, I just don't see you going geek."

I slung my bag over my shoulder, and stood up. "I dunno, must be in the genes. Maybe I had genius scientist parents. Who knows?"

The courtyard was starting to clear out slowly, and I needed to drop by the computer lab before gym. Jana got up with my help and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, pulling her waist length braid out from underneath it. "Could be. I guess you'll never know, right?"

Nothing like a good friend to touch on the very subject that's bothering you, and rub it in a little further. I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face and looked away.

"Yeah. No big."

Jana grabbed my shoulder and turned me back to face her.

"You alright Meg? You seem a little…off."

I gave her my best cheerful face, "Nah dude, nothing to worry about. I'm cool. Just… not sleeping that great."

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "Tylenol PM. Works every time. Just counter it with a good dose of coffee in the morning, and you'll sleep like a contented drunk with no yucky hangover in the AM."

I patted her on the shoulder. "Jana, what on God's green earth would I do without you?" I hugged her and said goodbye, heading in the direction of the lab.

I sat down at the only available PC in the computer lab and started up the internet. It was ten minutes before the next period, and people were hurriedly finishing off their homework and playing solitaire on all of the computers. I was done with my homework, and therefore had the luxury of doing what I wanted on the computer in my free time.

I opened up my mailbox. The usual junk mail intermingled with a few mailing lists that I subscribed to: The New York Times, a J. Crew discount newsletter, nothing important.

After I had deleted all of the crap, a popup came onto the screen.

"YOU HAVE 1 UNREAD MESSAGE"

That's weird, I thought, I just went through everything. It must have just been sent.

I opened my inbox, and practically fell off my seat. Subj: $&#($&#($&#(

Now, In the seven years that I could remember, I had never told anyone about the tattoo, had taken pains to hide it from everyone, even Jana, the closest friend I have ever had. The subject line was the shift symbols for my numbers, repeated three times. It was impossible that anyone I knew would know the significance of those four symbol numbers.

I looked around the lab. People were starting to leave, the bell was about to ring. Making sure nobody was looking over my shoulder, I opened the message.

To: $&#($&#($&#(

QUESTIONS? I HAVE ANSWERS. GET OPTECH FROM LEFT DESK

DRAWER. DO NOT REMAIN IN BUILDING.IMMINENT COMPROMISE.REMAIN ALERT.EYES OF SCION ARE EVERYWHERE 4739.ESPECIALLY IN THOSE YOU TRUST.DO NOT TRUST THEM.DO

NOT BE SEEN.WILL MAKE FURTHER CONTACT.ERASE HARD

DRIVE. COMPLETE MISSION DELPHI 

I had to remind myself to breathe. What could this mean? There's no way that this could be true. Or real! What did it mean, eyes of the snake are everywhere, especially in those you trust? MISSION DELPHI? It didn't make any sense at all. But in a strange way, it did. .

My concentration was broken by the ringing of the bell. I had Brit Lit on the other side of the quad, and knew I was going to be late. I weighed the possibilities quickly, and made a decision.

I reached for the drawer to the left of me, and hesitated momentarily. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, I opened the drawer, and started.

Inside was a small, compact handgun. A Glock .48. Black. Loaded. I couldn't believe was I was looking at. I had never actually seen a weapon up close, other than on a policeman's belt or some other benign and objective experience. Next to the gun was a beeper. It was black, small and compact like the weapon, as if the two were part of a stealthy gift set. It was on, and there were no messages on it.

I reached into the drawer and hesitantly touched the weapon. It was cold. I looked around the room to see if anyone was watching: the lab monitor was busy on his computer at the other end of the room, and there were only two other students at far workstations in the room. I proceeded to pick the weapon up and put it in my lap. I grasped the top of it with one hand, and held the grip with the other, and chambered the first round without thinking about it. I cocked it, flipped the safety off and gripped it with my left hand. A part of me knew what to do; the other part was completely shocked.

I shoved the gun in the big pocket of my backpack, slipping the safety back on. I placed the beeper in my pocket.

I closed down the internet application and logged out of my student account. I changed the access qualification to "ADMINISTRATOR" and quickly typed in the 12 digit password I had learned a few months ago by hacking into the database- for fun, of course. I selected the "CLEAR DRIVE INFO" option and confirmed it twice, and the computer started to run through the erase and shutdown procedure. I knew what I had just done could get me expelled, but I also sensed that this was a time for desperate measures. When the computer lab assistant turned to retrieve something from his printer, I swiftly dashed for the door, making it out before he could notice my departure.

I walked down the hallway, trying to make some rational sense of what I was doing. I was walking through my high school with a loaded gun and a beeper that had just been delivered to me via drawer-mail, and I was following instructions from an unidentified emailer who had just warned me about the 'eyes of scion' and an imminent compromization. I didn't know what to think. I just walked.

I was late for my Brit Lit class, and made my way across the quad, which was partially empty. Jana was walking in the other direction. I ran into her in the center.

"Yo slacker, aren't you supposed to be in Brit Lit now?" She hollered across the quad to me as she approached.

I held my hand up to my mouth in the universal gesture of 'shut the fuck up', and gripped her arm and pulled her to the side of the quad.

"Dude, I really need to talk to you. Something incredibly strange is going on." I whispered to her as we moved to a bench in the quad.

She stopped our progress by standing still, and looking me in the eye. "What kind of strange?" She queried.

"I don't know, but I think I'm in trouble. I think it's about my past.. the stuff I forgot.. or.. I don't know. Something big."

"What do you mean, the stuff you forgot? About your parents? Your life before you were adopted? Holy shit, that is big. Can I help?"

I smiled at her. My best friend. "I just need some time to figure some stuff out. I think I'm going to skip the rest of the day and head back to the.."

As I was finishing my sentence, I heard a distant thrum of helicopters. It was approaching fast, from the LA area. Jana looked at me strangely. "What's wrong?"

Simultaneously, two other things happened. I heard the screeching of tires in the front parking lot adjacent to the quad, and when I looked, I saw four big black SUVs come swerving into the parking lot. And the beeper in my pocket started to electronically wail. I pulled it out quickly, and read the LCD screen.

"

"Comp..Compromise.." I said under my breath as I started to take off my backpack. "Safe egress west exit..okay.."

"What are you mumbling about? When did you get a beeper?" Jana said in confusion, and as I pulled the gun out of my backpack, she gasped. "Now I know that is not what I think it is?"

I looked at the men emptying out of the SUVs and then at Jana. "Listen, I can't explain, but I'm going to have to go. I'll be in touch when I know it's safe. If anyone asks, you never saw me." I cocked the weapon, threw my backpack over my shoulder, and turned towards the west exit from the quad. As I turned, I heard a distorted voice over a bullhorn.

"4739: SURRENDER YOUR WEAPON AND STAND AT ATTENTION!"

Without volition, my body went rigid for a moment, as a sense memory ingrained into my muscles, nerves, everything locked into place. I was paralyzed. I was trapped.

Wait, no! My body felt locked, but my mind was not. I shook my head to clear it, and, fighting the biological urge to stay, broke into a fast walk, then a jog, then a run.

I heard the voice again, calling over the hovering helicopters. "4379 YOU ARE DISOBEYING A DIRECT ORDER. CEASE EGRESS OR YOUR ACTIONS WILL BE CONSIDERED HOSTILE."

As I ran, I saw that people were staring out the windows into the quad, watching me run. I knew that I could never come back here, not after this. Ahead, I could hear another SUV pulling up to the west exit. Fuck, I'm trapped this time.

Just as I was about to reach the gate, I heard a shot fired from behind me. I ducked into a rolling somersault, and torqued my body so that when I came out of the roll, I was turned in the direction of the helicopters, my gun steady in my hand.

I aimed at the helicopter, and my vision zoomed like a camera lens. I fired two shots, one at the pilot and one at the gas tank. The first shot found it's quarry, and I saw the pilot as if I was hovering outside the helicopter, splayed against his seat, hands off of the controls while a pool of red spread on his shirt. I looked down and saw Jana in the middle of the quad, laying prostrate on the ground so as to avoid getting shot in the crossfire. I got on my feet, turned to face the SUV blocking my way, and prepared to fire.

I had my finger on the trigger, but stopped. An arm was protruding out of the drivers side window, and with my zoom-enhanced vision, I could see the white tattoo on it as clear as day. My beeper went off, and I grabbed it.



I weighed my options, and shoved the beeper back in my pocket. As I ran for the SUV ahead, I heard a deafening crash, and looked over my shoulder to see the helicopter plummet into the science building in a burst of flame. I could feel the heat on my back as I dove for the car, hitting the pavement and scraping my face. I turned on my back, saw the passenger door open above me, and a hand descend to help me in. I grabbed it, and threw myself into the car.

"Are you okay? Hello?"

For a moment, I couldn't see, the blaze of the helicopter crash had blinded me momentarily. But I could hear, and when I could see better I turned to face the voice that had been calling me.

I hadn't seen his face in seven years, and much had changed, but it only took a moment for me to connect the first dots of the puzzle that I would find my mind had been obscuring from me.

His name came to my lips as I faded out of consciousness.

"Ban?"


	2. Family Ties

When I woke, I was alone in a studio apartment. I sat bolt upright on the futon on which I lay, and promptly fell off it to the floor with a loud thump. The sound echoed, confirming for me that the space in which I was in was quite vast. I stood up and looked around me.

It was less of an apartment than a warehouse floor, with rough wood floors and exposed brick walls, a wide open space separated off in places by tatami screens. This, the bedroom, was made up of a futon, a small bedside table, and some milk crates stacked one upon the other to create shelving. The room was impeccably clean, the clothes folded and ordered by type, and the floor was empty of offending laundry. Kind of like my room, I thought.

There was a pile of rocks balanced against each other next to the reading lamp on the bedside table. I reached out to pick one up, but stopped myself before I touched them, sensing that they had been placed in their formation for a reason. Kind of like a Japanese Zen rock garden.

Behind me on the brick wall against which the futon was placed was a large exotic looking tapestry. I touched it's edge- it wasn't fabric, but rice paper. There were Asian characters scratched across the paper, none of which were decipherable to me at a glance. I had taken a year of Japanese language when I was in my first year in high school, but all I had gleaned from it was the ability to say "Hello" and a knack for making origami hats.

Thinking about freshman year got me thinking about high school, which got me thinking quite vehemently, "What the fuck just happened to me?"

I didn't realize I had said those words aloud until I was answered by someone in one of the other areas of the apartment.

"You were compromised, that's what just happened."

The bodiless slightly British-accented voice was definitely coming from behind the tatami screen. I ducked lower and moved towards the opening in the screen.

I turned the corner, and saw something completely unexpected. A muscular mid-20's man was bent over in a particularly complex yoga pose wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. He stood on a purple yoga mat, and was covered in sweat. He looked up at me with bright blue eyes partially obscured by his long brown hair. He shifted his gaze from my eyes to my right hand, which was at my side.

"You can put that down, you know."

I didn't know what to say. I looked down at the gun in my hand, and realized that I was holding a fucking gun. I dropped it to the ground, and it's echo filled the space between the strange man and myself. My mouth gaping, I tried to regain composure.

"Where the hell am I?" I demanded.

In one quick fluid motion, the mysterious stranger stretched upward with outstretched hands, arcing his arms out wide until his palms connected directly above his head, bent his elbows so that his hands were clasped in prayer at his sternum, bowed, and let his hands fall to his sides. He whispered something I couldn't understand as he bowed. I saw the tattoo on his arm flash for a moment, and realized this was the man who had been in the car before.. I didn't know how long ago it had been.

Those big blue eyes connected with mine again. "You're in my apartment, and you're safe. I lost your friends miles away from here."

With apparent ease, despite the awkward moment, he lifted a towel off a rack on the other side of the room, and wiped his face. He draped it over his shoulders, and looked back at me over his shoulders. "Care for some water?" He asked as he poured some from a small pitcher on the table beneath the towel rack.

I was a bit frustrated at his easy attitude, and fired back, "No, I don't want water, I want answers. Who the hell were those guys? Why were they chasing me? And who the hell are you?"

He walked towards me with his cup of water, and I could see how finely sculpted his body was. "Slow down, one at a time. Why don't we have a seat, and talk about this in a more civilized manner?"

He was charming, and I was momentarily disarmed by his smile. This was all happening so fast, so smoothly, and I was forgetting to be shocked or surprised or scared or whatever I was supposed to be at this moment. I followed him around the corner into another screened room, this one with a big black slip covered couch, a low coffee table, and a big screen TV mounted on the brick wall.

He sat, and I sat. I grasped his hand, and looked at the marking on it.



"Just like yours, eh?" I knew he was looking at me, but I couldn't take my eyes off of his barcode. "The code is different, of course. I was made differently, my cocktail included a lot of battle theory and stratagem." He lifted my arm gingerly, and I didn't fight him.

He looked at my tattoo. "Aah, a tactical soldier, made to follow orders and perform wet work. No wonder you were so quick to follow my instructions in the school."

I looked up at him in a moment of fear. "How do you-"

"It's all in your code", he interrupted me, "you just have to know how to read it. You mean you can't.. my, you really did a number on yourself, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked as he dropped my hand and rose to his feet. He paced the length of the oblong room, and turned to face me on the couch.

"What do you know about that tattoo on your arm?"

I looked down at it, and rubbed it absently. "Nothing. Zip. I know it's been there since before I can remember."

"Before you can remember?"

"I have gaps. Well-more like a big gap. I don't remember anything clear before I was adopted at age 10."

His face seemed to fall, and he muttered a curse as he turned away, putting his hands on his head. I ventured further.

"But I do know that your name is.. Ban."

He turned, his eyes turned to ice, his body more rigid. "You remember that?"

"Yes," I replied, "but I don't know why, or what it means. Its all blurry, unclear." I walked towards him, never losing his gaze. I stood in front of him, looking up slightly at his taller frame. "What do you know?"

He looked down at me, and then turned back to the door through which we had come. "You'd better come with me."

We walked through the rooms of the apartment to the other end, where a room was devoted to computer equipment and video monitors. Large metal shelves on casters held monitors, cameras, audio equipment and other technical stuff I couldn't immediately identify. Ban and I sat in rolling chairs, and moved towards the central computer.

He began navigating a relatively advanced security system with nimble hands, rambling as he worked. "I didn't realize that you had blocked all of your memories. I mean, they taught us to do that, but I didn't think that anyone would really go through with it. I suppose you were so young, you didn't know what else to do. Safety mechanism. Protect the intel and all. But still…"

I was getting really frustrated. "Look, I'm really confused, and I'd like some answers. None of this makes any sense.."

"Yes it does, your mind is just having trouble abandoning its defenses. You've been keeping your knowledge locked away for all these years.. It's going to take some time for you to get it all back." He opened up a file, and documents piled up on the screen. "Ah. Here we are."

I looked at the screen, and he talked.

"This is a Military incident report filed seven years ago about the destruction of a VA hospital in Northern Washington, in a place called Cascade. It burned down in an accidental fire seven years ago."

I looked at him in dismay. "Okay, well, what does that have to do with me?"

He turned back to the screen. "Just wait. Look at this here." He pulled up another document. "This is a confidential oversight budget, Omega17, Classification Umbra- the highest level of security in the US government- detailing the budget allotted for the year before the hospital burned down."

I remembered that word, Omega17, from movies I had seen. It meant super secret. "How the hell did you get this stuff?"

He smiled at me. "They taught me well. Now look: take a look at the budget line for the Cascade VA hospital."

I thought there must be a typo. "$85,900,000? For a hospital? That can't be right."

"That's the number, but you're right, a VA hospital doesn't require $85.9 million operating budget. But then again, it wasn't really a VA hospital."

"What was it?"

He started up a satellite viewing program, and pulled up an image of Washington state. "Watch as I zoom. This is a shot from ten years ago."

The image pixilated as it zoomed on the upper northern quadrant. In a moment, a close up aerial shot was on the screen. A large two level building with exercise equipment surrounding the outside was visible. Beyond the main building were long squat buildings, barracks, and surrounding the whole complex was a tall barbed wire fence with guard posts high in the air. With a further zoom, armed guards could be seen in the posts, and outside of each building. I tried to make sense of the picture before me. "That's not a hospital.."

"No," he said as he looked at me. "It's not. It never was a hospital."

He brought up a large picture taken from the ground, showing small children marching behind a barbed wire fence. They all had shaved heads, and were wearing identical camouflage jumpsuits. They couldn't have been more than 8 years old.

"That is a picture taken by a nature photographer who stumbled onto a secret government compound in the mountains of Cascade, Washington ten years ago while he was shooting for _Washington Wildlife_. Before he allegedly committed suicide in his apartment, he had this picture published in a conspiracy theory magazine with an article about a secret military project involving genetics. He claimed they were training genetically engineered children to be soldiers: the perfect soldiers."

He pulled up another picture of the gym yard, where the soldier children stood in a straight line, their left legs out in a lunge, left hands in a blocking position, right hands lifted above their heads at a right angle. The children's right wrists were exposed. Ban selected one of the wrists, and zoomed in.

It was hard to make out, but when Ban adjusted the contrast setting, I could easily see the white numerals and barcode tattooed on the boy's flesh.

"It wasn't a hospital. It was a training ground. They created babies in test tubes, combining DNA from geniuses all over the planet with appropriate DNA from animals with enhanced senses. They trained them from birth to develop their skills."

My mouth hung open in shock as I stared at the image of the two boys. I realized I hadn't been breathing, and sharply inhaled. I stood shakily from the chair, and started to walk away from the screen. "No, no, that's insane! I don't-"

I felt him grab my upper arm, and without thinking I reached over my shoulder with my other hand and threw him to the ground. He fell to the ground with a thud, and looked up at me from the ground, curiously unperturbed. I shook, and lifted my hand to my chest, holding it. I looked down at the tattoo, and the truth was too much for me to ignore.

"You can't deny who you are, not now. You have to see the truth in this."

I crumpled to the ground, shaking uncontrollably, and for the second time in a day, passed out.

I woke up on the floor with Ban looking down on me. I almost went for his throat, but he was holding down my arms.

"Now, we wouldn't want to go down that road again, would we? I told you before, you're safe."

I spoke through clenched teeth. "How do I know that you're telling the truth?"

His eyes softened a little, their brilliant blue a shade lighter. "You're just going to

have to trust me."

I turned my head away from him, and looked across the apartment at nothing at all. I didn't know what to do. I didn't feel safe, that was for sure, but then again he had helped me at the school, which was reason to believe that he was telling me the truth, and was in fact on my side.

"Listen, I know your numeric designation, 4739, but I refuse to call you by a number like a piece of livestock. I know you have another name, one you have used for the last seven years, and I would rather know you by that."

He wasn't holding me down so hard, and I knew I could force him off of me, but I didn't want to do that just yet. I looked at him. "If I tell you my name, and promise not to attack you again, will you let me up?"

He raised his eyes, as if pondering it for a moment, and in that sliver of time I became aware of his muscular body bearing down on me. Not a good time to be thinking about this guy as a stud, I thought.

"If you promise to be a good little soldier, I'll let you go. Scout's honor." He smiled a little wry smile. His teeth were absolutely perfect.

I turned my eyes to him, my face still turned away. "Megan. My name is-has been- Megan."

He eased himself off her arms, and stood up, offering her his hand. "Megan, pleased to meet you. I, as you intuitively already know, am Bandit, known to my oldest acquaintances as Ban."

I stood up, and held his hand, the one with the tattoo face up. "4372. We're not too far apart numerically, are we? How old are you?"

He frowned. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'd say somewhere around 21, 22. The project personnel files were lost in the fire, so none of us can really be sure. And you're right; we are close, but not just numerically. We're very close in fact."

I started. "What do you mean?"

He held out his wrist so that I could see it, and pointed to the first digit. "This first numeral denotes the series: which series of soldier we are, a kind of birthday if you will. We are series 4, which means we are the fourth group created- fourth upgrade from the original." He pointed to the second number. "This signifies the class, for training. We were under the same instructor group, but at different times, because we are apart in age." He pointed to the third number, and looked up at her. "This is the important one, at least to me. The other two only meant something to the assholes who created us, ways to separate us out like cattle." He stopped, and lifted her hand up to meet his, so their tattoos were placed side by side. "This number denotes the surrogate mother who carried us, who birthed us. This is the only part of the equation that truly binds any two of us together. We both had the same mother. We're brother and sister, you and I."

I looked up at his face, and indeed saw some familiarity in it. His aquiline nose, sharp cheekbones, his bright eyes: my features were a smaller echo of his, almost a dilution. "So you're like my.. family?

He smiled at me, and nodded, "Spot on, little sister. I am."

I couldn't believe it. After seven years of solitude, disconnection, and loneliness, I was standing holding the hand of a man who shared my blood, my features.. And my strange history.

I didn't want to appear too childish, and I just said "Okay. This is a start, then."

He turned his head coyly, smiling. "We'll have to start getting to know each other all over again, won't we now?"

I smiled back at him, "I suppose so, big bro."


End file.
